


Resources

by Tezla



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Iron Man 2, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 03:53:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tezla/pseuds/Tezla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What I’m getting at,” Pepper continued, “Is that it’s just – the only time Tony backs off from our relationship, completely that is, is when he has something to hide. And this doesn’t look good at all.”<br/>“I don’t know what I can say,” repeated Natasha.<br/>“And that is just one of the reasons why I feel like the only person I can truly trust right now is the person who is paid to keep secrets.”</p>
<p>This is the story of how Pepper and Natasha became friends. It’s the story of how SHIELD helped save Tony’s life, and how Natasha helped Pepper deal with a series of traumatic events.<br/>Put another way, this story is a fix-it fic that follows the plot of Iron Man 2, told from Pepper and Natasha’s POV. There are some deviations from canon, particularly from about half-way in. Because of it’s relationship to Iron Man 2, this story contains some dialog from the film. For obvious reasons, I’ve tried to keep repetition of dialog and plot from the film to a minimum. It would be useful if you’re familiar with Iron Man 2, though the story should stand up by itself without prior knowledge of the film.<br/>This is a friendship fic. If you choose to read the Pepper and Natasha relationship as pre-slash, that’s your own lookout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resources

**Chapter 1: Three things to tear your hair out to**  
  
Three things happened that day that were guaranteed to raise Pepper’s blood pressure.  
  
The first was the arrival of the mail. Balanced on top was a packet of paperwork from SHIELD, which, aside from some standard waiver and non-disclosure documents, included a copy of Tony’s preliminary assessment of (un)suitability for the Avengers Initiative. Pepper could only assume that this gem had found its way into her in tray because of someone’s bizarre sense of humour. The signature on the final page was accompanied by a strange little smiley face wearing an eye-patch. Someone at SHIELD HQ was apparently on new medication.  
  
The second thing was the impending opening ceremony of the Stark Expo, because now Pepper could finally see the finished designs for the dancers’ costumes she knew that someone had had ‘design input’. Tony. Because hello, hot pants? Iron Man hot pants? Anyway.  
  
The third thing was Natalie Rushman, but in a good way.  
  
Very shortly after that, everything went to hell.  
  
Pepper had just finished skimming through her emails when her Skype connection flared into life. Coulson’s face appeared on her monitor.  
  
“Phil!”  
  
“Miss Potts.”  
  
“Now’s not a particularly good time.”  
  
“That’s fine. This will only take a couple of minutes.”  
  
Pepper stared into Phil’s impassive face, and took the opportunity to have another swig of her macchiato. Phil glanced at something off-camera, and waved a sheaf of paperwork in the general direction of his webcam.  
  
“Have you seen your mail?” asked Phil.  
  
“No,” Pepper lied.  
  
“Well,” Coulson began, “the decision on Stark is that he’s not really Avengers material.”  
  
“Which is something you should be discussing with him,” said Pepper, knowing full well that that was the reason she’d been sent the packet in the first place. “I’ll let you break the news.” She smiled at Agent Coulson’s sudden expression of discomfort.  
  
“We want to keep him on board as a consultant, but I’ve got to tell you, we’re still trying to patch things up with General Ross.” Phil’s lips twitched as if suppressing a smile. “All we asked Stark to do was speak to him about Banner. Do you know what he did?”  
  
“I am aware,” Pepper said.  
  
“We’re still trying to quash rumours out of Dawson City about the sudden loss of toes for Sourtoe Cocktails.”  
  
“Don’t.”  
  
“Pepper. Finding toes is not in my job description.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“Anyway, we should discuss the consultant angle.”  
  
“He won’t like it, Phil.”  
  
“His technological expertise will be invaluable.”  
  
Pepper levelled an unamused glance at Coulson over the top of her coffee, and kept silent.  
  
Phil levelled an equally stoic glance back.  
  
“If there’s nothing else, I have an expo to run,” said Pepper.  
  
“Actually… we need to get hold of some of Howard’s files. Is that possible?” said Phil.  
  
Howard Stark’s files were a perennial problem at Stark Industries, and it was mostly down to Pepper’s tenacity that these, as far as she could tell, were finally all housed in the same city, if not the same building.  
  
“Won’t take long,” said Phil, optimistically. “I’ll send someone over.”  
  
Pepper rolled her eyes. “I’ll stick something in the book.”  
  
“Thanks. I guess we’re done here, then.” Phil shrugged.  
  
“Looks like.” Pepper agreed.  
  
“I’ll let you know when I’m next in town.”  
  
“You do that.” Pepper closed her Skype connection, and sighed, feeling tension start to build at the back of her neck. She went off in search of another drink. It was going to be a very long day.  
  
The 10am meeting was given over entirely to the Stark Expo, open to advance ticket holders only for the first day, that day. None of the attendees were members of the general public. All of the attendees were celebrities, press, or potential investors, and the potential for disaster was immense. Thank goodness for her new legal advisor and notary, Natalie Rushman. Pepper had personally headhunted Natalie from Hammer Advanced Weapons Systems the month before, something which would no doubt cause Tony to crow loudly should he ever find out about it.  
  
By 10:45, Pepper and Natalie were in the car, on the way to the expo. Projected ticket sales were looking good, but the staff were giving her enough grief to dispel Pepper’s sunny mood.  
  
“I’m working on the booty call girls,” said Natalie, leafing through paperwork on the back seat.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“The two dancers that filed official complaints about their outfits? They’re calling themselves ‘Iron Booty’ backstage.”  
  
“Right, yes, of course they are. Thanks,” said Pepper, a little distracted.  
  
“There’s this other woman, though – Lauren – who claims that she’s been mildly electrocuted by ‘gadgetry’.”  
  
“Gadgetry?”  
  
Natalie quirked her mouth into a smile. “Her words. She’s a bit unclear as to what happened and how, apparently, but she’s claiming ‘Hair Apocalypse’.”  
  
“Well, at least that’s a new one,” said Pepper. “Happy, pull over here?”  
  
The car drew to a halt by the entrance closest to Pepper’s office, and they gathered their things and walked together towards the door.  
  
Gus Hartley the Technical Facilities Manager stood quivering in the doorway, obviously waiting for them to arrive. He held his cap in his hands, which instantly put Pepper on high alert.  
  
“Got a problem, Miss Potts,” he said, before the door had closed behind her.  
  
“Yes, Gus?”  
  
Gus followed close behind them as they walked towards Pepper’s office.  
  
“Just thought you ought to know. It seems that someone got soda in the robot that removes Mr Stark’s armour.”  
  
“You what now?”  
  
“We’ve got people on it, ma’am. It just needs a thorough clean. But it’d be handy if we knew if Mr Stark was gonna use the robot tonight? Give us some extra time for cleaning?”  
  
Pepper sighed. “Honestly Gus, I don’t know. I’ll call him as soon as I get to my office.”  
  
“Miss Potts?”  
  
“When I get to my office, Gus,” Pepper said.  
  
“Thanks, ma’am.” Gus sensed this was a dismissal, and scarpered off down the corridor.  
  
“Honestly,” said Pepper, finally reaching her door. Natalie followed her in.  
  
“The doors aren’t due to open for another seven hours. Tony is probably still in bed. The question would be, whose.”  
  
Pepper sat down behind her desk and turned her computer on. “You know,” she added. “I had an email last night from someone aboard the USS Abraham Lincoln, telling me that one of their helicopters would be dropping Tony off on schedule.” Pepper shrugged. “That’s an aircraft carrier. Why the hell is he on an aircraft carrier? And more’s to the point, why does he need a helicopter to drop him off? He has a flying suit.”  
  
“How about I go and drop these files off, and bring you some coffee?” asked Natalie.  
  
“You know, that sounds like a very good idea.”  
  
Natalie was back a short while later, carrying a small tray laden with coffee and muffins. Pepper looked at her with gratitude. As Natalie placed the tray on Pepper’s desk, her phone rang. Natalie turned the screen so that Pepper could see it, revealing the caller ID ‘Hair Apocalypse’.  
  
Pepper nodded at Natalie as Natalie pressed the button to accept the call. Natalie spent a minute or so agreeing with the person on the other end of the line, and then ended the call.  
  
“Anything?” asked Pepper.  
  
“Not yet,” said Natalie. “It’d be a lot faster if she didn’t call me every couple of hours.”  
  
“I hear you,” said Pepper, taking the lid off of one of the cups of coffee and inhaling deeply.  
  
“I wouldn’t worry about the rest of ‘Iron Booty’, though.”  
  
“Oh? Why’s that?”  
  
“I’ve just finished going through the paperwork. We polled the dancers on these outfits months ago, and they were unanimously approved. Believe it or not. One of these women even has a photo of herself wearing hers as her Facebook profile picture.”  
  
Pepper smiled.  
  
“Oh, and I bumped into Gus again in the corridor. He asked me to let you know that he’s just about to complete the final checks on the lighting. Everything’s looking okay.”  
  
“Thanks, Natalie.” Pepper smiled. “Really, thank you.”  
  
“I’d better leave you to it,” said Natalie. “Call me if you want anything?”  
  
“Will do.”  
  
Natalie smiled a small, cautious smile, took her coffee and one of the muffins, and left. Oh, how Pepper loved efficient women.  
  
Pepper tried to get on with her admin, but her thoughts kept returning to Tony. There were times when he made her want to bang her head repeatedly on the desk, and the email from the USS Abraham Lincoln had only served to remind her of this. Being in a relationship with the man had only made matters worse.  
  
It had taken precisely one night for Pepper to realise that a relationship with Tony would present her with a range of problems. Of course, she’d always known that it wouldn’t be easy, but had decided that it was worth it.  
  
It would be wrong to say that they had a mature relationship. It was mature in the sense that they both realised that they needed to give each other plenty of space, but actually sitting down and discussing what this meant wasn’t going to happen. Unfortunately, their views appeared to differ wildly. Tony was either a demanding taskmaster who wanted Pepper to drop everything and come running, or an absent, self-destructive hellion. This week, the opening week of his expo, he hadn’t been there either for her or for his company at all. The unpredictability drove her crazy. It was a bad trait in a boss. It was an appalling trait in a lover.  
  
Pepper liked order in her life. She liked things that were reliable. A routine she could actually plan her week around. Tony was none of these things. But dammit, he was devastatingly smart, annoyingly handsome, and painfully loyal. If she didn’t find a way to maintain her distance, no, compartmentalise, she was going to become a nervous wreck. Her heart stopped every time an alarm sounded in his workshop. She hated the fact that she frequently had to ask JARVIS whether he was still picking up his life signs, and that was not right on any level. She lost sleep every night he went AWOL. Every time he did something stupid, she died a little inside. She simply could not let herself become even more invested in someone who had such little regard for their own safety.  
  
Physically, well. It was good. But, as with other aspects of his life, Tony felt the need to continually experiment and push himself, and by extension sometimes, whoever he was with. Pepper really, really didn’t want a relationship where the physical side of things became a competition, or, heaven forbid, some kind of test.  
  
Enough, Pepper thought. She picked up the paperwork Natalie had left for her, and immersed herself in it.  
  
By four, ticket-holders were starting to arrive, which was crazy, because the expo didn’t officially open for another two hours. The press were listlessly milling around, occasionally poking things and waiting for something to go wrong.  
  
The first Pepper knew that they might actually get their wish was when Gus swore down the phone at her about lights going out on the far eastern edge of the complex. Pepper’s money was on the press having actually caused this problem themselves, because the manager of one of the waffle stands in that area had panicked and opened early, and there’d been a stampede.  
  
More legal suits were looming.  
  
“I am going to give myself an ulcer,” Pepper exclaimed, to no one in particular.  
  
Almost as if she sensed trouble, Natalie appeared in the doorway again.  
  
Gus continued to rant. “It can’t be fixed tonight,” he rumbled. “We just don’t have the parts.”  
  
Somewhere out there, fifty-seven paparazzi were stumbling around, eating waffles and smearing expo merchandise with maple syrup.  
  
“Ms Potts?” Natalie interrupted.  
  
Pepper was starting to understand that Natalie used her surname when she needed to get her attention. “Yes?”  
  
“…and security don’t have the manpower to police the area. What’s that? There’s an outage in sector twelve now as well? Well, fuck me back to Fuckwell. Pardon my French, Miss Potts,” continued Gus.  
  
Natalie turned her tablet so that Pepper could see the screen. It contained photographs of portable generator units.  
  
Pepper looked up into Natalie’s confident eyes, and wordlessly put the phone in speaker mode.  
  
“Mr Hartley? Gus? This is Natalie Rushman.” Natalie smiled at Pepper, who felt herself start to relax.  
  
“Mrs Rushman, the catering staff are complaining that they can’t work in these conditions. They need to be allowed to go home. Full pay.”  
  
“Mr Hartley. Have someone go down to gate three. There’s a low-loader with portable generators on its way. I’m sending the purchase order to your phone right now.”  
  
“Oh, ma’am?”  
  
“They’re sending along some technicians, so you’ll be able to have them set up well before it gets dark.”  
  
“Ma’am, er, ma’am?” floundered Gus.  
  
“You might want to call HR on your way down. There’s an extra twenty security due at the same gate any minute. I’m sure you can direct them to… any problem areas. Not that you’re likely to need them, because the generators will be up and running a full hour before the expo opens. In any case, they should be more than capable of directing the press towards the stage area.”  
  
“Ma’am. Um, ma’am.”  
  
“What is it, Gus?”  
  
“Er, nothing, ma’am. Going right away, ma’am.” Gus clicked his phone off.  
  
Natalie reached out to the phone to click the speaker back off, and looked at Pepper through her eyelashes. The small, quirky smile was back on her lips.  
  
Pepper smiled.  
  
“You’re a miracle worker. “I’ve been trying to get a word in edgeways with Gus for weeks.”  
  
“I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.” Natalie smiled back, and paused. “Well, actually, he’s been running up and down the corridor outside my office all day. Most of the time, while ranting at his foreman over his phone.”  
  
“Nevertheless, thank you,” said Pepper. “I think he’s met his match.”  
  
Natalie’s smile broadened.  
  
“How about I close this down and we make our way down to the expo? I’m about ready to sample the wine we’ll be offering our guests.”  
  
“Well, the wine won’t sample itself,” said Natalie.  
  
 **Chapter 2: Expos, bistros and CEOs**  
  
The floor was heaving with guests and press as glitter exploded down from the ceiling. Pepper watched from the main stage’s control room, Natalie at her shoulder, while dancers flowed seamlessly on and off the stage, their smiles flickering out as soon as they were in the wings. The dancers’ outfits were bad. But, well.  
  
The atmosphere was electric.  
  
Natalie touched Pepper’s arm, and gestured towards Tony. In full showman mode and with perfect timing, Tony turned as the main display screen came on, and his persona changed subtly, as he went from showman, to smug, irritating asshole, to the businessman who spoke passionately about his father’s legacy. It was so slick, people rarely noticed when one of Tony’s shows turned into sales pitch. It was a fine line to walk: promising environmentally-sustainable technology; skirting any negative connotations of weapons technology. Ten out of ten, Tony, Pepper thought. Ten out of ten.  
  
Natalie looked like she was enjoying the show, too. It was the first time that Pepper could recall her smile being so free, so unguarded. Pepper squeezed Natalie’s arm lightly, and turned her smile in her direction.  
  
As the speech drew to a close, the lights on stage dropped, and the crowd fell into tumultuous applause. The spotlight came back up on stage, and Tony took his final bows before going out to meet the press.  
  
“How about we mingle?” said Pepper. “I need to check the catering.”  
  
“I could do with a bite to eat,” Natalie agreed.  
  
“Honestly,” said Pepper, “I know I need to check the food, but I’m not sure my stomach could stand to eat any. I’ve been a bag of nerves all day.”  
  
“Well, there’s always that little French bistro tucked in in sector twelve. We could pretend we’re going to check on those generators.”  
  
“Oh, yes.” Pepper liked this idea.  
  
“It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”  
  
“Lead the way.”  
  
The restaurant was quiet and intimate. Situated on the edge of the complex, it would be a while before the crowds milling round the stage made it back this far.  
  
In the distance, cars zipped past, but in the restaurant, the atmosphere was kept sultry with low, sweet classical music. Of the twenty or so tables, only three were occupied. They sat and relaxed, as around them, glasses and cutlery chinked and tinkled, and couples engaged in muted conversation.  
  
The wine waiter had the silent approach down to an art. Pepper casually looked at the menu, and pointed to a bottle she’d been meaning to try.  
  
“You okay with this?” she asked pointing at her selection.  
  
Natalie shrugged. “If you recommend it. My knowledge of wines is actually pretty limited.”  
  
“Well, it has to be the only thing that’s not on your CV.”  
  
Natalie shot Pepper a piercing gaze. She searched Pepper’s face, and slowly let out a long breath.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Pepper looked at her expectantly.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“You don’t know.”  
  
“What?” asked Pepper, the smile on her face starting to fade. “I don’t know what?”  
  
Natalie’s gaze turned sympathetic. “This could be the part where you get mad. So, I’m asking you, please, don’t.”  
  
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”  
  
“I was assuming Agent Coulson told you. He assured me that you’d signed off on this.”  
  
“What? Phil? What’s Phil got to do with all this?” Pepper spluttered.  
  
Natalie gazed over at Pepper, and quirked the corner of her mouth in an ironic half-smile.  
  
“This is…”  
  
“Oh. My. God. Ohmygod! No!” Pepper raised her voice. “This is all part of that stupid assessment, isn’t it?”  
  
“Wait…” Natalie waved her hand in an attempt to calm Pepper down.  
  
“No! That… that rat bastard. Wait till I get my hands on him.” Pepper was flustered, and struggling not to become angry. A glance over at Natalie caused her to momentarily pause.  
  
“Can I?” Asked Natalie.  
  
“This better be good.”  
  
Pepper deflated, sat back and crossed her arms. The wine waiter chose that moment to slide back over to the table with her wine, and poured her a sample to try. She swigged it back, didn’t taste a drop, and stuck her glass out for more. The waiter, obviously used to this sort of behaviour, poured her a generous measure, did the same for Natalie, and departed.  
  
Pepper took another more cautious sip, and drew the bottle closer to her.  
  
Before Pepper’s eyes, Natalie’s posture changed. She withdrew the arm that had been reaching out towards Pepper, her muscles stiffened, and within seconds, Natalie was not the woman Pepper knew.  
  
“My name is Natasha Romanoff. Firstly, yes, I’m working with SHIELD. I’d been placed with Hammer for reasons you can probably guess, so when you head-hunted me last month, it was thought… kismet that I should move companies to work with you. And yes, Coulson did ask me to assess Stark’s suitability, but if he hadn’t done, SHIELD would have placed another agent at Stark Industries to do precisely the same thing. This shouldn’t be news to you, however, because Agent Coulson informed me that you’d already signed off on this.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“For what it’s worth, I do have the qualifications on my CV. I am qualified to do this job.”  
  
“Well, that’s something,” said Pepper. “And I do rather hope someone would have noticed that.” Pepper paused. “I think I might need time to think about this. Before I rip Phil a new one, that is.”  
  
Natasha smiled. “Well. In all fairness, it’s possible the order came from someone above Agent Coulson. And…”  
  
“And?”  
  
“Are you willing to trust me, Ms Potts?”  
  
Pepper looked Natasha squarely in the eye.  
  
“There is another alternative.”  
  
“I’m listening,” said Pepper.  
  
“Well, it may be more… interesting if you pretend that we haven’t had this conversation.”  
  
Pepper gazed long and hard at Natasha as the silence span out around them. She considered herself a good judge of character, no really. As her initial burst of anger faded, she found herself keen to find out why Phil had not been honest with her. And also wanting to know how long he’d leave it before letting her know.  
  
“Pepper?” Asked Natasha again.  
  
Pepper decided. “Yes, alright then. Yes.” She nodded. “Let’s do that, for now.”  
  
She picked up her menu, and Natasha did likewise. “I still need some time to think things through, though.”  
  
Natasha nodded.  
  
“But, I guess… I guess I can’t win, can I?” Pepper sighed. “If, say, I fire you… I’m assuming SHIELD will send someone else in to observe, and I’ll be short one legal expert.”  
  
Natasha nodded sympathetically. “If it makes things any better, I don’t choose my assignments.”  
  
Pepper sighed again. “Well. I guess you’re cover’s safe with me, ‘Natalie’.”  
  
Another waiter sidled over, and took their order for dinner. They were barely into the starters when Pepper’s phone buzzed with a text message from Happy. Pepper checked the text, then closed her eyes in exasperation.  
  
Natasha looked over with a curious expression.  
  
“I hope you’ve got an overnight bag. Tony’s been subpoenaed. We need to be in Washington by nine am tomorrow.”  
  
The following day passed in a blur, and by Friday, Tony’s appearance at the Senate Armed Services Committee was a bad memory. They’d tried to take Tony’s suit away from him, and instead, had only succeeded in showing Justin Hammer’s technology in the worst possible light. The day had ended with a jet to Malibu.  
  
Pepper sat at yet another desk, in yet another office, wondering how it was even remotely possible for one person to perform any useful work whatsoever when they had offices in four separate locations, and when the so-called-managing director of said company was as predicable as a firecracker on a rollercoaster. Also her favourite pen was on the other side of the continent.  
  
The email in front of her was a heartfelt thank you from the Boy Scouts of America for Stark Industries’ generous donation of their modern art collection.  
  
She looked over to where her beloved Rothko had hung, recently replaced with a print of dogs playing pool. Someone had switched out the paintings, and she’d put good money on guessing the name of the wise ass that made that switch.  
  
Time to confront Tony in his workshop.  
  
Pepper managed to hold back until about a second after getting through the door.  
  
“Is this a joke? What are you thinking?”  
  
“What?” asked Tony. “I’m thinking I’m busy. And you’re angry about something.”  
  
As Pepper strode towards Tony, he made a tactical withdrawal, walking backwards through the various projections and work projects littering the air around his workspace.  
  
Pepper followed him. “Did you just donate our entire modern art collection to the Boy Scouts of America?”  
  
“It’s a worthwhile organisation. I didn’t physically check the crates but basically, yes. And it’s not our collection, it’s my collection. No offence.”  
  
“No, you know what. I think I’m actually entitled to say our collection. I put in over ten years curating that.”  
  
Pepper could see Tony running through a list of excuses in his mind, and she was suddenly furious. Count to ten, her analyst had said. Make sure you visualise what you want to say before you say it. Be calm, and if it helps, picture a cool, babbling stream. Take a deep breath.  
  
Her analyst was obviously a moron.  
  
“Pepper,” Tony said.  
  
“No,” Pepper said. “What possible reason could you have, for giving away all that art? What possible cause is worth this insanely frivolous action? Couldn’t you like, I don’t know, just give them some money?”  
  
Tony’s eyes boggled, and his mouth moved as if he was about to say something.  
  
“Is this a bribe?” Pepper asked.  
  
Tony startled, and his jaw dropped.  
  
Bingo, Pepper thought.  
  
“If you want to think of it that way,” Tony said, flapping his hands. “Look. It’s a worthwhile cause. They just need a little persuasion right now. Policies can be changed.”  
  
“I thought you said you were fed up with the Liberal agenda?”  
  
“I said I was fed up with the wind farm.”  
  
“I am fed up with this!” Pepper snapped. “If this isn’t bad enough. Shit. There’s only about eight thousand and eleven things that I really need to talk to you about. Today. Like the gigantic waste of time that is your expo.”  
  
“There’s nothing more important to me than the expo.”  
  
“Nothing?” shrieked Pepper. “The expo is your ego gone crazy.” She watched with increasing frustration as Stark, taking that moment to basically define ‘ego gone crazy’, picked up a poster of himself, vaulted onto a work surface, and replaced one of the few remaining good pieces of art.  
  
Their argument fell into its well-worn usual pattern of bickering about the value of Stark Industries stock. In all honesty, it was possible that neither of them were listening to what either of them were saying at that point. Pepper almost missed the moment when Stark decided that the solution to all of their problems was, crazily, to make her CEO.  
  
Time seemed to stand still, but, it seemed, he was serious. Ten minutes later, Pepper, the newly-appointed chairman and CEO of Stark Industries, was back at her desk, hands shaking slightly, mind racing with thoughts of the series of difficult conversations that she needed to have with board members and legal staff by the end of the day. Because if you were going to break news like this, Friday afternoon was absolutely the worst part of the week to do it.  
  
Especially when, you know, you need to be in fricking Monaco in thirty-six hours.  
  
Legal first, she thought. That’s the ticket. Give them a heads-up and get the paperwork in motion before the press get wind of it. Get someone cool, calm, and efficient on it, who won’t go into instant meltdown at this rather unusual turn of events.  
  
Someone who wouldn’t think twice about working Saturday.  
  
Only one choice, really.  
  
Before she could find Natalie, Phil called.  
  
“No,” she said, before he could get a word in.  
  
“Good afternoon to you, too, Ms Potts.”  
  
“Can’t this wait?”  
  
“I’m afraid not,” said Phil, obviously buzzing with news. “Two things.”  
  
“Okay,” said Pepper.  
  
“First, we found Howard’s notes, so thanks. Your assistant was very helpful. We’ll get copies made and get them back to you.”  
  
“No problem,” said Pepper.  
  
“Actually, we had some help. We’ve just unearthed an old colleague of Howard’s. He’s proving useful.”  
  
“A very old colleague, presumably,” said Pepper.  
  
“Possibly,” said Phil, enigmatically. “Anyway, the other thing was by way of a heads-up. Justin Hammer’s still mad about the Senate Armed Services Committee, and plans to join you in Monaco this weekend. I’m sure he’ll have something planned.”  
  
“Noted,” said Pepper.  
  
“It might be a good idea to take someone from Legal with you, just as a precautionary measure.”  
  
“I know just the person,” said Pepper, nodding.  
  
“Good,” said Phil.  
  
The seconds that followed were filled with both of them trying to work out what the other knew.  
  
“Congratulations on the promotion,” Phil said, and cut the connection.  
  
Bastard.  
  
 **Chapter 3: I’ve been around the world and I can’t find my Baileys**  
  
Malibu, Saturday morning. Their bags were packed, and Pepper only needed to sort out the company transfer paperwork, and to drag Tony out to the car. It would have been easier for her to instil a sense of urgency into the proceedings if Tony had not been sparring with the man who was due to drive them to the airport.  
  
Pepper had secretly been dreading the point where Natalie met Tony, but realistically, she couldn’t put it off a second longer, since they were all flying out together. When Natalie finally arrived with the paperwork, the result was disappointingly predictable. Both Tony and Happy stopped what they were doing in order to drool over her, and Tony tried to convince her to change jobs.  
  
Eventually, the paperwork was signed, and the company was Pepper’s.  
  
Happy was quietly contemplative on the way to the airport, and, as was his usual habit, sat with the pilot for the flight. This gave Natasha a private audience for something she never expected to see on Stark’s jet: Tony Stark actually doing some work.  
  
They each worked at their own tables. Natasha quickly typed up a progress report for SHIELD, then set about sorting out the current outstanding legal issues at the expo. She was in regular contact with other staff there, and it seemed that things were all running smoothly, though of course they’d only know for certain when they checked in in person the following week. Hair Apocalypse woman seemed happy with her settlement, and had apparently decided to make Natasha her best friend in the world ever. This included spamming Natasha with emails and Facebook invites at every conceivable opportunity, though why Natasha should have any interest in crushing candy, she had no idea. Natasha found herself in the worrying position that she might actually have to start remembering the woman’s name, and use that in her cell phone address book instead.  
  
There were dozens of emails from Coulson. Several new situations were brewing in the Arctic, New York, and New Mexico. It was shaping up to be one hell of a week.  
  
“Tony, Natalie,” Pepper said, “can I just speak with you both for a minute.”  
  
“Shoot,” said Tony, flipping his phone closed.  
  
“Now, don’t get… how you get, but I’ve found out that Justin Hammer will be at Monaco,” Pepper said.  
  
Tony’s eyes widened, and he thought about this for a second. “Okay, so he’s up to something, obviously,” he said. “Hammer Industries don’t have a car in the race, and he hasn’t got any friends.”  
  
“I agree, Tony. He’s up to something, and it probably has something to do with the Senate Armed Services Committee, but we also have to assume he will claim to be legitimately courting investors.”  
  
“I don’t buy it. His contract’s been revoked, and he’s not legally allowed to do that. Anyway, his stock is gonna be through the floor, and this won’t help.”  
  
“Well, yes,” said Pepper. “As far as we know…”  
  
“As far as we know, Hammer’s only new line of research is his knock-off Iron Man suits. We’ve just let the world know that he doesn’t have product, so,” said Tony.  
  
“So he’s going to try to discredit Stark Industries in some way,” said Pepper.  
  
“Because that’s about a zillion times easier than trying to rescue his own shoddy reputation,” added Tony.  
  
“Well, yes,” said Pepper, “but you have to be careful.” She turned to Natasha. “Natalie, I need you to do some research while we’re at the race. Liaise with the office and find out if Hammer’s having any business meetings with our competitors.”  
  
“Isn’t that… unethical?” asked Natasha.  
  
“Look,” said Tony, before Pepper could get a word in, “all we’re really asking you to do is to collect data. Speak with people at Stark who know people who work for our competitors. Find out if any of them have a boss who just happens to be in Europe for the weekend. That kind of thing.”[1]  
  
“Hmm,” said Natasha, still uncertain.  
  
“For what it’s worth, I don’t like this either,” said Pepper. “But Hammer is not going to play fair. I want you based at the hotel. That way, Stark Industries can always get hold of one of us. Stay on call for any emergencies, and keep your eye on the expo situation. While you’re at it, check the press for reactions to my promotion. We’re going to need to monitor shareholder reaction pretty closely on that.”  
  
“Other than that, lie back, take it easy, and take some time off to explore the town,” Tony said, with apparently no irony whatsoever. He grinned, then opened up his phone and started working again. Almost immediately he sighed.  
  
“I’m done with this car, Pep,” Tony said.  
  
“The what, now?” said Pepper.  
  
“The racing car. Has to go.”  
  
“Tony, this is a useful line for you. It convinces stockholders with petrochemical interests that you’re still focussing on these markets. How many times do we have to go over this?”  
  
“Renewables, Pepper. What do I keep saying? The tower – everything – it’s about renewables now. Screw the car, I need a drink.” He pressed a button in the arm rest of his seat. “Happy, break out the good stuff.”  
  
Pepper frowned.  
  
“The car needs to go,” reiterated Tony. I’m bored with it. How fast does that thing go, anyway? And when will these guys get fed up with driving round and round in circles the whole time?”  
  
“You’re just pissed that Jacques won’t let you drive it,” said Pepper.  
  
“Well, yes, there’s that,” said Tony.  
  
Happy opened the pilot’s door, took one look at Pepper and Tony, and set about making drinks. “Have they started arguing about the wind farm yet?” he asked Natasha.  
  
“I think that was yesterday,” she said.  
  
Happy handed Tony a scotch, then handed Pepper a large glass of wine.  
  
“It’s a little early,” Pepper said.  
  
“It’s after mid-day in New York,” said Tony. “Drink it quick before we get to Europe and it’s still breakfast time.”  
  
This was the sort of logic that Natasha approved of.  
  
“Anything for you?” Happy asked.  
  
“Maybe a vodka,” she said.  
  
He fixed her a drink, got himself and the pilot some water, and headed back to the cockpit.  
  
“I have work to do,” Pepper said, signalling to Tony that she was tired of this conversation.  
  
“Fine,” Tony said, stalking off to use the restroom.  
  
Natasha watched him go, and mentally catalogued his appearance. Waxy skin, and sweating, but staying covered up: some kind of fever. Glassy eyes, vaguely unfocussed. Almost constant drinking of some foul-coloured liquid back in Malibu, which he was now hiding in the close confines of the jet. Not a proprietary drink, so some kind of tonic. She would almost swear that she’d seen some discoloration or track marks on Stark’s neck, but she wasn’t entirely certain.  
  
The toilet flushed, and Tony returned to his seat. As he drew level with her, she noticed a small pin-prick of blood on one finger.  
  
These signs all added up to real issues for concern. Tony was either an addict, or he was being poisoned.  
  
Tony checked that Pepper was lost in thought and leant over to whisper in her ear. “I don’t care what she said. Forget working from the hotel. I want you at the meet-and-greet. Hammer’s not invited, but If there’s one place he’ll be, it’s there.”  
  
Natasha assessed Tony’s expression and let him stew for a few seconds. She thought back to earlier that morning when Tony had ‘persuaded’ her to spar with Happy.  
  
“You just want me to toss him around like a rag doll, don’t you?” she said.  
  
Tony grinned widely, reached out as if he was about to pat her knee in appreciation, then thought better of it. “Flip him like a burger,” he said.  
  
Natasha smiled, and they both returned to their work.  
  
After an acceptable interval, and noting that Tony was distracted with modifications to his suit, Natasha made her way to the restroom. The trash can slid out easily, and nestled on top was a small electronic device, similar to a blood sugar monitor, though obviously for some other function. The red digital display read 47%. She scooped it up with a paper towel, and slipped it into her pocket.  
  
 **Chapter 4: Monaco**  
  
As the jet landed, the first hints of dawn were starting to appear on the horizon. A slight breeze blew in off the coast, promising high temperatures later in the day. What always seemed to come as a surprise to Pepper’s friends back home when she mentioned it to them, was that the Monaco Grand Prix started at about midday. This meant that in order to socialise and settle themselves before the warm-up lap, they had to be at the meet-and-greet no later than eleven am. More than that: social events before a race didn’t follow the kind of schedule that made any rational sense, because of the types of people who attended. Some people flew in from the west coast of the US just for the day. Since their body clocks were nine hours out of whack from Monaco time, you’d find them settling in for their evening meal just as locals were having their breakfast. The casino never closed and served breakfast cocktails, which was asking for trouble in anyone’s book.  
  
One of the benefits of travel at such an ungodly hour was that it was the only time of the day during Grand Prix week when traffic wasn’t a nightmare. Pepper didn’t want to admit it to Tony, but she hated Grand Prix week with a burning fiery passion, which increased with every passing year. All the major roads were closed, and all of the hotels were full. Restaurants were either mysteriously closed for private events, or booked up a year in advance. It was good for business, though. There was also always someone who could be tempted away from investing in this sector of high-performance engineering to something even more exclusive. Stark Industries products were like sex, drugs and rock and roll to the Monaco set.  
  
When they finally reached their hotel suites, Pepper was hot, dusty and tired. She laid her sun hat on the coffee table, and turned to look at Natasha apologetically.  
  
“I’m sorry about the room situation. It’s impossible to change bookings this late in the day,” Pepper said.  
  
“No problem,” replied Natasha, shrugging. “I’ve had much worse, believe me. I’ve still got my own room. Only….”  
  
Pepper sighed. “It’s okay. You’re wondering why I’m not sharing with Tony, right? It’s alright, you can say it.”  
  
Tony and Natasha each had their own suites, which each consisted of two bedrooms connected by a small lounge area. The hotel was a plush Victorian confection, and the smaller second rooms had originally been intended as sleeping quarters for a butler or maid.  
  
Natasha smiled. “Okay.”  
  
“It’s a work thing,” Pepper said. “He never gets jet lag. Or suffers because of the time difference. He just,” she waved her hands, “carries on working. And… well. He gets up in the night to work as well. Particularly if a conversation sparks an idea.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“Basically, booking two suites means that Tony gets to do what he wants to do, and I get to sleep when all sensible people are sleeping. And in turn, that means I can actually do my work in the day time.”  
  
Natasha smiled sympathetically. “I’ll admit, so far, Tony Stark has not been quite what I was expecting.”  
  
“Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll become depressingly predictable. He works really hard to be that crass.”  
  
Natasha laughed. “He’s got talent, I’ll give him that.”  
  
Pepper collapsed into an arm chair. “This isn’t the sort of relationship you had pictured, is it?”  
  
“Not really.”  
  
Pepper shrugged. “Me either.”  
  
“Are you…?”  
  
“Oh, we are a couple,” said Pepper, and Natasha wondered who she was trying to convince. “It’s okay, mostly.” Pepper shrugged. “But you’d be mistaken if you believed that we were exclusive. Or rather, I am… mostly because I don’t have the time or energy for anything else, and Tony, well. He’s Tony.” Pepper’s expression wasn’t sad, or resigned: rather, she looked almost exactly the way she tended to look when talking about business matters. “It’s okay, really it is. And I’m not sure the person’s been born who can cope with all of Tony’s demands 24-7.”  
  
“That’s… a mature response,” Natasha said.  
  
“The obvious reply here would be to say that one of us has to be,” said Pepper.  
  
Natasha smiled again, and kept silent.  
  
“Now, if you don’t mind, I really need a shower. Then I’m going to call room service and get the nicest, largest bottle of chilled white wine I can find sent up here. Along with the first thing that catches my eye on the menu.”  
  
“Fine,” said Natasha.  
  
“What can I get you?”  
  
“Oh, something light, thanks. And some tea?”  
  
“I’ll see what I can do,” said Pepper, walking to her en suite and closing the door.  
  
Natasha shrugged, and took her small suitcase to her room. This was the first real opportunity she’d had for privacy since early that morning back in Malibu. With an ear cautiously listening for the sounds of running water in Pepper’s bathroom, she called Fury.  
  
“Sir, we have a problem.”  
  
“I’ll say we have a fucking problem, agent Romanoff,” said Fury, sounding depressingly awake. “No, asshole, I said sprinkles, and a mocha.”  
  
Everyone had got used to Fury’s habit of speaking in half-sentences. It was a little more difficult to get used to the times when the first half of a sentence was aimed at you, and the second half was aimed at someone else. Usually on a different continent.  
  
“More specifically, though, Sir, your supposition about Stark is correct.”  
  
“The palladium?” asked Fury.  
  
“Based on his symptoms, yes. It looks very much like palladium poisoning.”  
  
The sound of running water and splashing drifted out to Natasha from Pepper’s bathroom, and she thought she could also hear singing.  
  
“Well, if he’s using palladium in his reactor, at least we know he’s not using it in his toaster, or some shit like that. But he’s hardly going to be much use to us if he continues using it on himself. And you can take that back and give me a fresh one. No, asshole, I said mocha.”  
  
“Agreed, Sir. What do you suggest?”  
  
“Well, we’re working on it, but we’re going to need some of his blood. In the mean time, stay on Stark, and try to make sure he doesn’t kill himself.”  
  
The background noises wherever Fury was (presumably the canteen at SHIELD) changed, and Natasha heard the sound of a metal chair scraping on a tiled floor, as Fury sat down with his snack.  
  
“Already taken care of,” said Natasha.  
  
“Good girl,” said Fury, mostly because he knew that would piss Natasha off. “We’ll send someone to collect it. I’ll lay ‘long-lasting’ odds you know where he’ll be.”  
  
“Understood,” said Natasha, deciphering Fury’s code.  
  
“But understand this, agent, depending on the extent of the poisoning, he could have as little as twenty-four hours left to live. A generous estimate would be a week. But even I wouldn’t be foolish enough to shoot a potential asset up with antidote before we know it’s the right one.”  
  
The line went dead and Natasha hung up. Much to her surprise, She realised that she was actually a little saddened by the news about Stark.  
  
She quickly unpacked, and when she returned to the lounge area five minutes later, she found Pepper with her hair wrapped up in a towel piled high on her head, calling room service. The bathroom door was open, and hot steamy air drifted out of it, smelling fresh and sweet.  
  
“Ahhh,” Pepper said, collapsing onto the couch. “So much better.” She tucked her feet up onto the seat, and arranged her robe around herself.  
  
Natasha smiled.  
  
“So, is there anything I should know?” asked Pepper.  
  
“Miss Potts?” asked Natasha, making her face as expressionless as possible.  
  
“About the expo? I’m assuming because you’ve not mentioned anything, that it’s actually going okay? You would mention if things were not okay, right?”  
  
Natasha smiled. “It’s all okay. No problems.”  
  
“Oh, good. Oh. Oh!” said Pepper. “I didn’t mean… not your other job. I know better than to ask about that.”  
  
“That’s fine.”  
  
“Is there anything you need to do for SHIELD? I know I shouldn’t pry,” said Pepper.  
  
Natasha quirked an eyebrow, inviting further questions.  
  
“I know SHIELD must keep you busy, I mean,” elaborated Pepper. “So if you have anything you need to be getting on with?”  
  
“No, I’m good,” said Natasha, smiling.  
  
“What’s it like?” asked Pepper. “I mean, if you can tell me. I mean, Phil is all…” Pepper gesticulated, apparently at a loss as to how to describe Phil Coulson in a few words.  
  
“The work’s varied,” shrugged Natasha, “Interesting.”  
  
Pepper’s expression became mischievous. “I suppose there’s no way you can tell me what you learnt at Hammer Advanced Weapons Systems?”  
  
“Sorry,” said Natasha.  
  
“But, you enjoy the work?” asked Pepper.  
  
Natasha lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug, and seriously considered the question. “It suits me.”  
  
Pepper nodded. “Well, if you ever do fancy a change of pace, we could certainly do with someone like you around the place. Natalie is a real asset.”  
  
“Thank you,” said Natasha. “I…”  
  
There was a knock on the door, and Natasha went to answer it. She let the waiter bring in the trolley carrying their dinner, tipped him, and waited until he had made his retreat. Pepper watched Natasha check the corridor, lock their door, and check the trolley before continuing.  
  
Natasha poured them both a drink. “I can’t see me holding down a regular job long-term,” she admitted, passing a glass to Pepper.  
  
Pepper nodded.  
  
“But, for now… I’m enjoying being Natalie. It’s… liberating.”  
  
Pepper smiled at her. “Well, I’m pleased.” She took a sip from her glass. “And do you know what might please me more?”  
  
“No?”  
  
“If I could persuade you to place our dinners on this table right here in front of me, so I don’t need to get up. Then… please come and sit down here and eat with me.”  
  
“That, I can do,” said Natasha.  
  
Five hours and a few hours’ sleep later, Pepper felt slightly the worse for wear when she arrived at the meet-and-greet arranged for owners and their guests. She composed herself, took a deep breath, and tried to open the door of their brand new hire car, a Rolls Royce. The door remained resolutely locked.  
  
Up front in the driver’s seat, Happy was apparently running through some kind of internal monologue in which he was a secret agent. She could see him practising raising one eyebrow in the rear-view mirror. Tony’s portable Iron Man suit, which transformed from a briefcase, jangled clumsily off his wrist.  
  
“Happy? Let me out?”  
  
“Sorry, Miss Potts,” he stumbled. “Child lock.” She heard a click, and the lock released.  
  
Pepper sighed, and stepped out to greet the press.  
  
Much to her surprise and counter to her instructions, Natasha was already in the hotel.  
  
“Sorry,” Natasha said, not appearing all that contrite. “Blame Tony.”  
  
“I certainly intend to,” said Pepper, smiling, before moving on to shake hands in her new capacity as the beneficent, all-seeing CEO of Stark Industries.  
  
Tony appeared at her side, closely followed by Justin Hammer. The next few minutes seemed to play out in slow-motion. One moment, Tony and Justin were happily bitching at each other, the next, Pepper turned to towards where Tony had been, and instead, saw his image on a television screen, preparing to race the Stark Industries car himself.  
  
“Natalie!” Pepper called out to her. “Do you know about this?”  
  
Natasha ran over to her. “This is the first I’ve heard about it.”  
  
“Get Happy. Now.”  
  
Natasha rushed out without saying another word.  
  
Pepper sat, dumbstruck, as the cameras showed the start of the race, the first lap, and then, a man in an orange overall making his way out of the pits and onto the track. Around Pepper there was a collective intake of breath as the strange man strode out to the middle of the track, unfurled some kind of lash-type weapon, and split the closest car in half.  
  
This couldn’t be happening. None of this was real. Pepper looked up as Happy ran in, with Stark’s briefcase still handcuffed to his wrist. She wasn’t sure how, but somehow, they’d stop this. They had to.  
  
They ran to the car, parked out front of the hotel. Behind her, Pepper could hear the commentator exclaiming, and the sound of other cars piling up as wreckage on the track. They needed to get Tony his suit, fast. Pepper threw herself into the back seat, and they sped towards the scene. It took her maybe ten seconds to realize that they were driving straight into the on-coming race cars.  
  
As Pepper was flung around in the back of the Rolls Royce, she made a grab for the case. “The keys?” she asked.  
  
“In my pocket.”  
  
Happy tried to reach for his pocket, but fumbled, and instantly had to put both hands back on the wheel. There was a screeching roar as a Formula One car narrowly missed them. Pepper grappled between the seats and hoped that Happy’s keys were in his right pocket. In almost any other situation, this would have been hilarious. She was in luck. She reached into his pocket, and Happy tensed up and let out an involuntary ‘oof’ as she none-too-gently whipped the keys out.  
  
They careened around the track, slewing from one side to the other as race cars pelted at them, unable to brake. Pepper pushed herself between the front seats, and tried to wedge herself firmly so she could work at the lock on Happy’s wrist. As they slammed around a corner, she lost her balance, flying back and landing flat on the back seat. To her left, the mini-bar pinged open, and its door flapped around uselessly.  
  
She clawed her way back up and tried again. Up ahead, she could see flames and arcs of light as the laser lashes of the man in the orange overalls whipped through the air. Around them, gendarmes, mechanics and medics were starting to make their way warily onto the track, as Happy continued to drive at break-neck speed straight for the armed man.  
  
Approaching from this side, they had a perfect view of Tony’s wrecked car, split in two, directly in front of her. All around it were parts of other cars, some with injured men stumbling away from them. As the man in the orange jumpsuit approached Tony’s car, Tony appeared from nowhere, and hit him with a section of his car’s fairing.  
  
There was a jolt as Happy skidded the Rolls to a halt, hitting Tony’s opponent.  
  
Pepper grappled for Happy’s wrist once again, and finally managed to unlocked the handcuff. She untangled it, dragged the case onto her lap, and tried to open her door.  
  
The damn door wouldn’t open.  
  
“Happy, the door! The door!”  
  
Outside, Pepper could see the man Happy had just hit rise to his feet again, and the lights of the laser whips lashing through the air. Happy’s startled face was reflected in the rear-view mirror.  
  
“Happy! The damn child lock is on again!”  
  
“Right, right,” mumbled Happy, looking around and trying to work out which button to press.  
  
Outside, Tony launched himself towards a bottle-green car, with fuel leaking from it. As one of the whips hit the car, Tony jumped back, and the car exploded into flames.  
  
“Oh my god,” Pepper yelled. She lowered her window and screamed out at Tony. “Get in the car!”  
  
Tony started to climb the nearest fence, while his opponent walked slowly towards him.  
  
“Get in the car!” yelled Happy.  
  
“Give me the case!” yelled Tony, now half-way up the wire mesh fence, hanging on with one hand.  
  
The strange man turned towards them, grinning. He threw back his arm, and lashed out at the Rolls, slicing one of the doors in half. At this, Happy slammed his foot down and drove at him again. As Happy collided with the strange man, the car’s airbag inflated, punching Happy in the face. The armed man, still improbably unharmed, continued to lash out at the car, raking off an enormous lengthwise section of it’s side. Sparks and pieces of car sizzled through the air, landing on the back seat next to Pepper.  
  
Pepper yelled in shock, and threw the case out of the car. It slid to a stop by Tony’s feet, and within seconds, it had transformed around Tony into an Iron Man suit.  
  
It was all over rather quickly after that. Confronted by Iron Man, the strange man in the orange jumpsuit laughed an insane belly laugh. Tony fired at him, while he continued to lash out, one lash catching Tony round the neck, tossing Tony back and forth. Tony grabbed hold of the lash, wrapping it around himself and using it to pull himself closer to the man.  
  
Within arm’s reach, Tony punched the man, knocked him down, and reached for his chest. The man laughed even harder as Tony twisted, wrenched, and removed… no, surely not? In his hand, Tony held the unmistakable shape of an arc reactor. Slightly different to his own, but an arc reactor nevertheless.  
  
“You lose,” cackled the downed man, spitting at Tony, as finally, the gendarmes reached him and he was dragged away.  
  
Pepper’s gaze took in many things in that second. Tony’s thunderous look as he crushed the arc reactor, the look of triumph on the face of his opponent, and the flashes of hundreds of cameras. Within seconds, the world would know. Stark Industries wasn’t the only company with arc reactor technology.  
  
 **Chapter 5: Russian roulette. I don’t think that means what you think it means**  
  
Back in the hotel, Natasha watched with mounting disgust as Justin Hammer gave his own commentary to the scene unfolding on the track. His glee was almost unbearable; however, she needed a diversion, and it wasn’t going to get better than this.  
  
Silently, she detached herself from the crowd, and backed away. It was time to meet her contact.  
  
The casino was easy to find.  
  
She strolled nonchalantly into the room, attaché case held loosely but protectively to her side. The room was quiet, most people instead choosing to watch the race. The busiest part of the room by far was the roulette wheel, where a group comprised mostly of women, presumably the partners of various business executives, wolf-whistled and cheered at a man in a tuxedo.  
  
“Ladies, ladies… and gents,” he said. “Please.”  
  
Natasha blinked as two of the women simultaneously and independently decided that this was the perfect moment in which to reach out and fondle one of his buttocks.  
  
“For luck!” one of them giggled.  
  
Natasha stepped round to the opposite side of the roulette table, and looked Clint Barton straight in the eye.  
  
“Well, two always was my lucky number,” he said.  
  
Natasha quirked a smile, and, professional as he was, Clint gave no indication that he’d seen her.  
  
The croupier signalled no more bets, and Natasha slipped away from the table to a stool at the bar.  
  
She ordered a couple of drinks, and, five minutes later, Clint joined her. Natasha couldn’t help but notice the rather obvious fuchsia pink lip print on his cheek.  
  
“Really?” she asked.  
  
“Hey,” he said. “I’ll have you know I’m supposed to be in Berlin. The orchestra’s got two more nights there before heading back to Chicago.”  
  
She pushed his drink towards him, and took a sip from her own.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“I’m sure they’ll manage without their substitute cellist for a few hours.” She turned to half face him. “That is, I assume, how they’ve been managing for the rest of the tour.”  
  
“It’s going well, thanks for asking,” smiled Clint. He reached out and snagged her phone. “Hair Apocalypse? SHIELD really are scraping the barrel with their codenames.”  
  
“She’s texted again?” said Natasha, grabbing the phone back. “No. Barton, you ass.”  
  
Clint smiled.  
  
Natasha manoeuvred her attaché case onto the bar, and tilted it until a padded envelope was revealed. Clint took it and slipped it into his inside pocket. The blood testing device that Stark had placed in the trash had been delivered, and would soon be at one of SHIELD’s labs.  
  
Clint nodded to himself, and took another swig of his drink. “Christ, those women will be the end of me. I’ve got fewer bruises fighting sailors.”  
  
“Can’t wait to read the report,” Natasha said. “Better get back.” She slipped off her stool, and looked longingly at her half-finished drink.  
  
“I’d better not waste that,” said Clint. “I think I’m going to need it.”  
  
“Later,” said Natasha, and left the bar.  
  
Back in the hospitality suite, display screens showed the events still playing out on track. A birds-eye view from a helicopter showed a mangled mess of car parts, and huddles of people, ambulances and police cars. Hammer was nowhere to be seen, but Natasha doubted that he’d returned to his hotel. Playing a hunch, she headed towards the small meeting rooms set aside for guests. As soon as she reached the corridor they were on, it was obvious that Hammer was there. Two of his men guarded one door. This was not good news. There was no easy way that she could find out what he was doing.  
  
Without glancing in their direction, she continued down the corridor and entered the first restroom she found. At her hip, her mobile phone started to vibrate silently, so she slipped into a cubicle to answer it. It was Pepper.  
  
“We’re okay,” Pepper sobbed. “We’re all okay.”  
  
“Thank goodness,” said Natasha.  
  
“Tony’s fine. I’m fine, and Happy’s fine. Just some scratches.”  
  
“Where are you?”  
  
“We’re at the police station. Tony’s gone off somewhere, but he’ll be back soon.”  
  
Natasha heard muttered conversation in the background. “Yes, Happy, I’ll tell her.”  
  
“The car’s been trashed,” Pepper continued. “When we’re done here, we’ll get a cab, and come get you. But, we need you back at the hotel. Can you do that? Meet us back at the hotel?”  
  
“Okay,” said Natasha. “I’m leaving now.”  
  
“Good,” said Pepper. “Start packing our things. We’re heading straight home.”  
  
“Okay,” said Natasha. She ended the call, and headed for the door.  
  
They sat in silence on the Stark Industries jet as it sped back towards Malibu. In the background, the TV showed Senator Stern expounding loudly on how Tony had told them all that there would be no comparable arc reactor technology fro five to ten years. Pepper sighed and pressed a button on the remote, turning off the TV. Without immediate action, their stock would be trash come Monday morning.  
  
Tony slapped his legs and stood up. “I’m going up front for a few minutes. Talk amongst yourselves,” he said.  
  
Pepper shook her head. “He does this,” she said, “when we’re on the jet and he can’t get away. It drives Happy and the pilot absolutely crazy. He’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”  
  
Pepper watched Tony go, and as the door to the cockpit closed behind him, her façade crumbled.  
  
“I can’t cope with this, Natalie.”  
  
“Miss Potts?”  
  
“I think that after all this, you can call me Pepper.”  
  
“Pepper,” Natasha smiled sympathetically. “What do you mean?”  
  
“All of this,” Pepper waved a hand. “It’s too much. You know, I think I’m getting on top of things, and then, it’s just more and more shit, heaped on top of the other shit. I can be CEO. I know it. Given a chance, I’ll do a damn good job at it. But I can’t cope with all this. Tony, and danger, and whatever the hell’s going on with Hammer Industries.”  
  
“What are you going to do?”  
  
“That’s just it. I don’t know,” said Pepper. “And, well, while Tony’s not here, have you noticed anything odd? I mean, odder than usual?”  
  
Natasha thought of everything she knew of the current situation, what she was supposed to know, and what she could legitimately tell Pepper without making her become more concerned. She gave the most non-committal answer possible. “I don’t know what I can tell you. Sorry,” she said.  
  
“It’s just, well. He’s hiding something. Something important. He’s not normally like this. I know we’re especially busy at the moment, but we haven’t spent any time together at all. We’re holding a party for his birthday on Monday, and if there’s one thing you can usually guarantee some input on, it’s that. But nothing.”  
  
Natasha kept silent.  
  
“What I’m getting at,” Pepper continued, “Is that it’s just – the only time Tony backs off from our relationship, completely that is, is when he has something to hide. And this doesn’t look good at all.”  
  
“I don’t know what I can say,” repeated Natasha.  
  
“And that is just one of the reasons why I feel like the only person I can truly trust right now is the person who is paid to keep secrets.” Pepper reached over and patted Natasha’s hand.  
  
The door to the cockpit opened again, and Tony backed through it, a tray of drinks in his hands.  
  
“Ladies,” he said, setting the tray down in front of them. “What did I miss?”  
  
“Only Senator Stern repeating himself,” said Pepper. “So, are you going to tell us?”  
  
The panic in Tony’s eyes was fleeting, but unmistakable.  
  
“Who was that man, Tony? On the track?” Tony had steadfastly refused to give them the details of what had happened on the race track until they were away from prying eyes.  
  
Tony’s expression slid back into something more casual. “Anton Vanko,” he said. “His dad worked with my dad, back in the day. It’s the same old story. Professional disagreement, life-long vendetta, a need for revenge that he passed on to his son. Apparently pops and Vanko senior both worked on the original arc reactor, but Vanko senior must have headed back to Russia long before the thing was ever built. My father wouldn’t have kept good people away from opportunities for good publicity.”  
  
“Tell me Vanko’s not working for Hammer?” Pepper asked, pained.  
  
Tony’s expression became horror-struck.  
  
“He wasn’t,” said Natasha. “I watched him at the reception. When Hammer saw the footage from the race-track….”  
  
“I bet that bastard thought all his Christmases had come at once.”  
  
Natasha nodded, and reached forward to take a drink from the tray. “Hammer’s expression was… gleeful.”  
  
Tony slumped forward, and grabbed handfuls of his hair. “Look, Vanko’s safely locked away for now, but I wouldn’t put it past Hammer to be trying to recruit him even as we speak, and there is no way that I want Hammer getting his hands on an arc reactor.”  
  
“We’ve promised Hammer a slot at the expo,” said Natasha.  
  
“And there’s that,” said Tony. “I need to call Rhodey. This is a disaster.”  
  
“I need to prepare a press release,” said Pepper.  
  
Natasha nodded. “I have plenty to be getting on with, too.” Yes, she’d contact SHIELD, but after that, she needed to think up ways to limit any damage Hammer might cause at the expo.  
  
 **Chapter 6: You gotta fight for your right to party**  
  
Natasha stood silently in the doorway, watching Tony looking at himself in a mirror. The signs of palladium poisoning were obvious, even from a distance. The track marks left by the toxins crawled up his neck, and there was nothing in his wardrobe that would ever mask that. There was no way that he could have a party tonight.  
  
His reaction times were slow, she thought, as he fumbled with another blood testing device. Whatever solution SHIELD came up with, it’d have to be tonight.  
In the dim light of the room, Natasha could easily make out the bright red digital display of the device, reading 89% toxicity.  
  
She made sure that she made some noise as she entered the room, and palmed the device before fixing him a drink. Up close, the track marks were angry welts on his skin, and his expression was strained.  
  
“Can I ask you a question, hypothetically?” Tony said. “It’s a bit odd. If this was your last birthday party you were ever going to have, how would you celebrate it?”  
  
Natasha stared at Tony impassively. She thought about the times in her life when she’d felt at peace with the world. It didn’t take very long.  
  
“I’d do whatever I wanted to do. With whoever I wanted to do it with,” she said.  
  
Tony turned his face to the mirror. “Yeah,” he said.  
  
Natasha took a deep breath as she left the room, and went to find Pepper. Pepper, as it turned out, was easy to find. Natasha followed the sounds of her angry voice to the kitchen, where she was haranguing caterers and waiting staff.  
  
Pepper had a way of making tall, muscular people feel very small and insignificant. You had to admire that about her.  
  
One of the reasons for the incompetence of the waiting staff became apparent very quickly. Clint Barton was fondling the canapés.  
  
“Do you want me to take care of this while you go get ready?” asked Natasha.  
  
“Would you? That would be so kind. Thank you. Maybe you could talk some sense into these people.” Pepper shot Clint the sort of look that would wilt lettuce, and stalked off.  
  
Clint looked sheepish, and patted his false facial hair a little self-consciously. The other catering staff shot him looks as dirty as the one Pepper had given him, and carried on with their work.  
  
Natasha was a master at keeping a straight face, but this was pushing her abilities somewhat.  
  
“Really?” she said. “Do you want to explain what this is about?” She directed Clint to follow her out of the kitchen to somewhere more private.  
  
“Give me a break, okay? I haven’t slept in two days,” Clint said. “I dropped a tray. Seriously, you try holding all this shit.”  
  
“Where’s Coulson? Folding napkins?”  
  
“Seriously. You would not believe how insane it is at the moment.”  
  
“Do you have it?”  
  
“What?” asked Clint.  
  
“The antidote. Do you have it?” asked Natasha.  
  
“That’s not how it works. There’s this thing…” Clint leaned in close as a waiter walked past them, carrying two trays expertly. He raised an eyebrow in derision as he passed.  
  
“There’s an anti-toxin, it alleviates the symptoms, but it’s not a fix. The toxin basically has to work it’s way out of his system itself.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“We think there’s something else. It’s in Howard Stark’s notes, but the best person to work it out is Stark himself, so we’ve just got to buy him time.”  
  
Natasha nodded. “But you’ve got the anti-toxin?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Clint said. “Need to shoot him up with it. I just need a diversion.”  
  
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” said Natasha.  
  
“Fine. So, I’ll get on with this. Let the party get into full swing, give me a signal, and I’ll deliver. With any luck, he’ll be too hammered to notice.”  
  
“Okay,” Natasha said. “So, consider yourself reprimanded, and I’ll see you later.”  
  
She ran back to her room and changed her outfit. Downstairs, she could hear guests arrive, and the chatter of voices rising and falling. Out of her window, she noticed Rhodey arrive, and heard Pepper’s delighted welcome. By the time she returned downstairs, there were two parties going on. A pleasant, genteel affair in their spacious hallway, and a raucous, drunken free-for-all in the main living area. At the centre of the mess was Tony.  
  
Tony’s solution to covering the track marks on his skin had been simple. He’d decided to party in his Iron Man suit.  
  
Pepper and Rhodey followed Natasha in.  
  
“This is ridiculous,” Rhodey said, “I just stuck my neck out for this guy.”  
  
“No, no, no!” exclaimed Pepper, witnessing Tony’s atrocious drunken dancing. “Just let me handle it, okay?”  
  
“Handle it, or I’m going to have to.”  
  
The evening was rapidly becoming a farce. Over to one side, Clint stood next to a buffet table, looking frustrated. The hypodermic gun could penetrate most clothing, but it would definitely not penetrate Tony’s suit. And even a drunk Tony Stark would notice if someone shot a dart into his face.  
  
Pepper steeled herself, walked to the front of the room and tried to shut the party down. Tony wasn’t having any of it. His reply was angry, and mumbled, and ended with a sad and bitter Pepper stalking off, while Tony decided that now was the perfect time to start shooting at random objects.  
  
He was completely out of control.  
  
Pepper pushed her way through the crowd, and stood directly in front of Natasha. She placed a hand on each of Natasha’s shoulders and took a deep breath.  
  
“Walk me out of here. Please. I don’t want to make a scene.”  
  
Clint’s body language subtly asked if Natasha needed any help, but she moved her hand in a way to indicate that she could take care of it. Natasha gently put an arm around Pepper, and Pepper leant into her in a half-hug. As she led Pepper away, she saw Rhodey head towards Tony’s workshop, a determined look on his face.  
  
They made it to one of the guest rooms before Pepper let her control slip.  
  
“I’ve had it,” Pepper said. “I’m leaving him. I’ve had enough of that man.”  
  
“Have you thought about this?” asked Natasha.  
  
The sound of destruction filtered up from downstairs, mixed with laughing, screaming, and finally, a voice that sounded like Rhodey’s shouting “get out!”  
  
Pepper nodded. “Yes, yes I have. Trust me, I’ve thought of very little else.”  
  
Natasha thought back to her earlier discussion with Tony. The one that basically went something along the lines of ‘what would you do if it was your last night on earth?’. Tony had chosen not to tell Pepper about his illness. He’d chosen not to trust her with something vital to them both. And, instead of spending his last night on Earth with the woman he apparently loved, he’d spent the night pissing in his suit and shooting at watermelons. There was distancing yourself from people to protect them, and there was distancing yourself from others and hurting them.  
  
She had to side with Pepper on this.  
  
There was the sound of an explosion, and the house shook. They both ran back downstairs as weapons fire shook the house still further. Huddling in the vestibule and around the main entrance, a dozen or so guests remained, simultaneously fascinated and appalled at what was going on.  
  
It was at this point that Tony and someone else in an Iron Man suit – presumably Rhodey – fell through the ceiling.  
  
Happy appeared from nowhere. “Pepper! Come on. Let’s get out of here,” he said, grabbing hold of her and dragging her out of the room. Natasha assessed the situation as Tony and Rhodey continued to smash into one another, and more of the remaining guests decided that the risk just wasn’t worth the scoop. On the periphery, she spied Clint and made her way over to him.  
  
“Come on,” he said. “I’ve got a tracker on the suit. There’s not much we can do here right now.” They ran for the door as explosions wrecked the house, and part of it shot up in flames.  
  
A dirt road forked off from the main access road to the house, and wound its way down to a small, sheltered cove about a quarter of a mile away. At the end of the road sat a conspicuous yellow Corvette, and at the wheel, Nick Fury. They got in.  
  
“Well, it’s about time,” said Fury.  
  
“Mission’s a bust, Sir,” said Clint.  
  
“What do you mean, ‘a bust’?”  
  
“Stark spent the evening in his Iron Man suit,” said Natasha. “He’s currently fighting Colonel Rhodes, who’s also in a suit.”  
  
“And they wonder why I don’t believe that Stark can play well with others,” said Fury. “What do you suggest?”  
  
“Monitor the situation for an hour, try again,” said Clint. “He can’t keep this up all night.”  
  
Despite their distance from the house, they could still hear sounds of destruction. Suddenly, it fell quiet.  
  
“Hmm,” said Fury, as something rocketed up from the house, and into the night sky. “Try again in an hour, the man said,” throwing a cynical glance at Clint.  
  
“That wasn’t him,” said Clint.  
  
Fury started the engine, and slowly drove the car back up towards the junction with the main road. As they reached the turning, a second rocket shot up into the sky.  
  
“That,” said Clint. “That was him.”  
  
Ten miles away, Pepper sat in the back of a car as Happy drove. She felt numb, but it didn’t stop tears from streaming down her face.  
  
 **Chapter 7: My knees don’t bend that way**  
  
Turns out, a crazy man in a flying metal suit is easy to find.  
  
The corvette pulled into the parking lot of Randy’s Donuts, and just for a minute, the three of them sat there, watching Tony Stark eat, while precariously balanced inside the iconic donut-shaped sign. A couple of police cars that had been patrolling the area moved in to block the entrance and exit, as if that would make any difference. As an unmarked SHIELD van moved into position across the street, Fury steeled himself, and placed his hand on the door handle.  
  
“Five minutes, Romanoff. Barton, stay here. Give her the antidote.”  
  
“Teacher’s pet,” said Clint.  
  
“Barton, you’re driving back,” said Fury, stepping out of the car, his long black coat sweeping out behind him. Clint scowled, and shuffled over into the driver’s seat.  
  
Five minutes later, Natasha entered the restaurant. Approaching from Stark’s rear, he didn’t see her until she was at their table.  
  
“Tony,” said Fury, “I want you to meet agent Romanoff.”  
  
Stark twisted round to see her. “Huh,” he said. “You’re fired.”  
  
“I’m a SHIELD shadow,” said Natasha.  
  
“But you just had to be in my gang,” said Tony.  
  
“Last I heard, your gang was short one Colonel James Rhodes, and one of your suits. Is that even possible?” asked Fury.  
  
“Well, according to Mr Stark’s database security guidelines, there are redundancies to prevent unauthorised usage,” said Natasha.  
  
This put Tony immediately on the defensive. “Listen,” he said, slamming his fist down on the table, “you should be begging me on bended knee to join your crummy Initiative, instead of… instead of these breadcrumbs as consultant. Whatever you think you have that I need – you’re wrong. I don’t need your gang. I am way cooler than your gang.”  
  
Fury smiled like a shark. “Really? Is that the line you’re going with?”  
  
“You tell me,” said Stark. “What have you got? I’ve got all the cool toys, more money than most countries, and a kick-ass girlfriend, and what have you got? You’ve got Coulson’s little pug-faced chippie out there in the parking lot, and, somewhere in the wilderness, a man who holds a black belt in yoga.”  
  
“Boy, when you act like an ass you really go all out,” said Fury. He reached across the table, and put a hand against Stark’s neck, forcing him bend his head to the side and reveal the track marks from the palladium poisoning. “What have we got?” he said. “We’ve got what it takes to give you another sunrise. Hit him.”  
  
With a genuine feeling of pleasure, Natasha bent forward, and shot the anti-toxin straight into Stark’s neck.  
  
“What the hell?” said Tony. “What did you just do to me?”  
  
From her vantage point, Natasha could see the track marks already starting to recede.  
  
“What did we just do for you?” said Fury. “That’s lithium dioxide. It’s gonna take the edge off.”  
  
“It’s not a cure,” clarified Natasha. “It just abates the symptoms.”  
  
“There is no cure,” said Tony. “I can only use palladium in the arc reactor. I’ve tried every permutation of every known element.”  
  
“Well, I’m here to tell you that you haven’t tried them all,” said Fury. “So get back to that wreck of a house of yours, there’s something waiting for you. And maybe while you’re at it, stop being such a goddamn pain in my ass. I have bigger problems than you in the South West region to deal with.”  
  
“Ten dollars,” said Coulson later that day, as he, Natasha and Clint walked through the open door of Stark’s wrecked Malibu home. “Ten dollars that he’s found this new element by…” Phil looked at his watch. “Ten o’clock tomorrow night.”  
  
“Thirty hours?” Clint made a derisive huffing sound, and rolled his shoulders. “Fifty,” he said. “Fifty dollars says he’s got a cure by this time tomorrow, and he’s named it after himself.”  
  
Phil raised an eyebrow, and shook Clint’s hand. “Can you have an element called ‘Dick’?” he said.  
  
“Not joining in, Nat?” asked Clint.  
  
“A hundred,” she said. “A hundred says he takes forty-eight hours, and he destroys his workshop in the process.”  
  
“I am so winning this one,” said Clint.  
  
They found Stark adopting yet another dramatic pose, on the ledge of what had been his scenic view over the bay. At his feet was a large metal case with ‘Property of H. Stark’ emblazoned on the lid. Fury loomed over him. By the way Tony ignored the new arrivals, Natasha could tell that he was feeling much better already.  
  
Noticing their arrival, Fury walked over to them.  
  
“We’ve disabled all communications,” Natasha said. “No contact with the outside world.”  
  
“Outstanding,” said Fury. “Romanoff, I need you to remain at Stark. There’s a couple of junior agents, but watch this idiot. Coulson, Barton, change of plan. I need you two in Mexico. There’s a chopper standing by.”  
  
Coulson squared his shoulders. “Boss?” he asked.  
  
“My hands are tied,” said Fury. “And I need you back here tomorrow, Phil, to take over from her.”  
  
Phil clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.  
  
“Pepper and I are scheduled to head out to New York tomorrow afternoon,” said Natasha.  
  
“Look, Phil, I know you don’t like it,” said Fury, “but once this guy sees what’s in the case, he won’t notice you’re gone, and we need you down there.”  
  
Phil nodded his agreement. “Fine. Natasha, if this guy does anything stupid, taze him.”  
  
“So then, gentlemen, shall we?” said Fury, indicating that they leave. As Fury, Coulson and Barton walked out the way they had come, Tony looked up. He gave Natasha a curious glance, then focussed his attention on the metal case. “Well, don’t just stand there,” he said. “Give me a hand with this thing.”  
  
They carried the case to Stark’s lab, and Natasha found a comfortable seat while he started to go through its contents. Her phone beeped to let her know she had a text message.  
  
“Two hundred that you kill him first,” it read.  
  
Natasha sighed, and called Pepper.  
  
Pepper picked the phone up on the first ring. “Where are you?” she asked.  
  
“I’m at the Malibu house, with Tony,” said Natasha.  
  
There was a deep intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Are you okay? How’s Tony?”  
  
“We’re fine,” Natasha said. “The house is a wreck.”  
  
“That much I guessed.”  
  
“Where did you get to last night?” asked Natasha.  
  
“Happy took me home. I just couldn’t face it.”  
  
“Where are you now?”  
  
“In the office,” said Pepper. “Work doesn’t stop just because….” Pepper gave a wry chuckle. “Well, let’s put it this way. If Stark Industries ground to a halt every time Tony did something stupid, we wouldn’t have lasted very long.”  
  
Natasha nodded, and hoped that her agreement was felt at the other end of the line.  
  
“Are you coming in today?” asked Pepper. “We could use you down here.”  
  
“Wish I could,” said Natasha. “Coulson wants me here.”  
  
“Right, right,” said Pepper. “Well, that makes sense, I guess.”  
  
“I’ve got my tablet. I’ll check in. I can work from here.”  
  
“If you could, please.” Pepper paused. “And… I’m screening my calls,” she said. “I don’t want to be hearing from Tony for a day or two. It’s just until I get my head round this. Let things calm down a little.”  
  
“Get your head round this?” asked Natasha.  
  
“This. Last night was the final straw,” said Pepper.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“I think this is it. I think Tony and I are through. So if he asks, tell him… tell him I’m okay, and that I’ll talk to him in a couple of days. I’m not asking you to break bad news to him. Believe it or not, this isn’t our first difficult patch.”  
  
Natasha tried to let her support be felt at the other end of the line. “I’ll do what I can,” she said. There was a click at the other end of the line as Pepper rang off. On the other side of the room, Tony was already engrossed in paperwork. Natasha let him work, and got on with her own.  
  
Tony worked all night, and Natasha took turns with two other SHIELD agents to keep watch over Stark. It was during one of her naps that Tony left. Natasha found the other SHIELD agents slumped over a bottle of tequila, signs that Tony had been extraordinarily productive. She was pretty sure their jobs would last less time than their hangovers.  
  
Natasha made a couple of quick calls, and followed Stark to the Malibu office. She found him in Pepper’s office, eyeing up a large display partially hidden under a dust sheet. Pepper’s expression was both disappointed and thunderous. The sooner they were on their way to New York, the better.  
  
“Wheels up in twenty-five minutes, Miss Potts,” she said.  
  
“Thank you, Natalie,” Pepper said. “I’ll just be another minute. Actually, while you’re here, maybe you can talk to Tony about removing his personal belongings.” Pepper cast a determined look towards the display Stark had been admiring, and Natasha knew that rather more than that had just been discussed.  
  
“We’re good,” said Tony, flying in the face of the evidence. “It’s this I need, actually.”  
  
Pepper huffed her disapproval, and left.  
  
Natasha gathered some paperwork from Pepper’s desk, and turned to face Stark as the office door clicked shut. Stark’s look of wide-eyed wonder told her that he had no idea that Pepper also knew about her role at SHIELD.  
  
“Oh, you’re good, agent. You’re mind-blowingly good at this,” he said. “Is there anything real about you? Do you even speak Latin?”  
  
Of all the things he could be focussing on, she thought. She looked him squarely in the eye. “Te futueo et caballum tuum,”[2] she said.  
  
“Wait, what did you just say?” Tony said.  
  
“I said, you can either drive yourself home, or I can have you collected.” With that, Natasha collected her things, and went to join Pepper on the plane.  
  
 **Chapter 8: Death expressed through the medium of interpretive dance**  
  
Pepper and Natasha sat nervously in the main hall, tucked away to one side, hoping that Justin Hammer would not notice them watching his presentation. Hammer’s ego certainly did not need that kind of boost. His list of demands had been extensive, and extremely difficult to fulfil on short notice. They had both spent a good part of the previous day and most of the flight over liaising with the team who were re-modelling the stage.  
  
When they’d first heard that Hammer wanted to give a presentation, they’d scratched their heads about the best way to include ‘Advanced Weapons Systems’ in the expo. While they openly accepted suppliers to the arms industry (they could hardly avoid it given Stark Industries’ history), Stark Industries was now very keen to promote its Liberal agenda, and also came down squarely on the side of defensive rather than offensive technology. Unfortunately for them, there was no time for this particular philosophical debate. Hammer’s weapons division was part of the Hammer Industries umbrella company, so they had no choice but to accept it, on the proviso that defence was the stated objective. Anything else, thought Pepper, the gloves were off.  
  
Pepper simply couldn’t trust Hammer to keep to his side of their agreement. A furtive call from Rhodey late that night had steeled her resolve. Rhodey would be leading Hammer’s presentation, in the suit he’d taken from Tony: something Hammer considered a fitting kick in the teeth. Hammer didn’t just want to present at the expo, he wanted to humiliate Tony. It was terribly petty, but Pepper wanted to humiliate him right back.  
  
It was with this in mind, therefore, that they’d tried to engineer a display that would steal the limelight away from Hammer, and act as damage limitation. Unless, heaven forbid, Hammer had something amazing up his sleeve, or did something appallingly bad.  
  
All of the headline presentations in the main hall were introduced by the dancers. For this particular presentation, they’d decided to celebrate some of the more recent positive changes in the military.  
  
Pepper grasped Natasha’s hand. “I hope you’re right about this,” she said, as Tony’s Iron-Man-hot-pants dancers started to filter onto the stage.  
  
The change in the line-up was instantly noticed by the audience, many of whom had been sitting through similar presentations all day. There was a collective intake of breath, followed by cheers, raucous applause, and one or two approving whistles, as the dancers celebrated the hope of acceptance by the armed forces of the fullest, broadest range of the gender identity spectrum that they could find. It was, in short, thirty men, women and others, performing a spectacular rendition of The Village People’s ‘In the Navy’.  
  
“You know,” said Natasha, “everyone will think that this was Tony’s idea.”  
  
She looked at Pepper, who gave an embarrassed smile.  
  
Natasha stared at her. “Pepper Potts,” she said, “you’ve been getting away with this sort of thing for years.”  
  
Pepper’s smile became more broad. “Well, I learnt from the best. We could have been a little less obvious, though.” She grasped Natasha’s hand a little tighter. “Hammer will be baying for our blood even more, if that’s possible.”  
  
The dancers exited as the crowd stood as one, and gave them rapturous applause.  
  
“We’ll have to keep them on. They’re good,” said Pepper. “The hot pants have grown on me.”  
  
“A guy in the third row tried to put money in Sasha’s waistband.”  
  
“I don’t think he’ll mind. The rest of the week he’s trying to finish up his doctoral thesis.”  
  
The audience quietened as Justin Hammer entered the stage, and rapidly introduced his drones for the army, navy, air force and marines. Finally, he brought on Colonel Rhodes, in the suit he had taken from Tony.  
  
Pepper squinted at the stage. “Hell, those drones look good. But what have they done to War Machine?”  
  
Suddenly, there was a whoosh of air from behind them, and Tony flew into the hall in his Iron Man suit. To everyone’s astonishment, Rhodey took off in pursuit of him.  
  
“What? What the hell?” said Pepper. “What the hell’s going on?”  
  
“Stark must know something we don’t.”  
  
Suddenly, Hammer’s drones started to fire at the ceiling, and shards of glass started to rain down on them. People started to scream and panic, pushing and shoving at one another to get out of the room. One after another, Hammer’s drones fired up their rockets and pursued Rhodey and Tony across the sky. Any drones left on the stage started to walk menacingly towards the audience.  
  
“Get Hammer,” said Pepper, starting to force her way towards the stage. Natasha pushed forward with her.  
  
On stage, Justin Hammer tapped futilely at his tablet, and tried to keep several of the drones in place with his bare hands. He saw them approaching.  
  
“Please go away,” he said. “I’ve got this handled.”  
  
“Seriously?” screamed Pepper. “I’d hate to see what things look like when you’re not in control.” She looked at his tablet. “You’re locked out of your mainframe?”  
  
“I’ve got it,” Hammer replied, but as he spoke, the drone he was pushing against drove him forward to the edge of the stage, and he had to let go to prevent being toppled into the front row. The drone carried on walking, landed near the first row of seats, and started to walk towards one of the dancers.  
  
Natasha strode towards Hammer and shoved him against a wall. Hammer grunted in pain as she stepped into his personal space and pushed her forearm against his neck. “Your drones are armed. They are firing.”  
  
“Who’s behind this?” asked Pepper.  
  
“Vanko,” said Hammer. “Ivan Vanko.”  
  
“Vanko’s here? He’s got control of the suits?”  
  
Hammer wheezed, and Natasha released the pressure slightly.  
  
“Y…yes,” said Hammer. “Let me go.”  
  
Natasha released him, but instead of letting him go, span him around and wrenched his arm up behind his back.  
  
“Does he have Colonel Rhodes?”  
  
“What?” said Pepper. “Vanko’s controlling Rhodey’s suit too?”  
  
“Yes,” said Hammer. “Yes, goddammit. Let me go.”  
  
“Where is he? Where’s Vanko?” Natasha asked.  
  
“He’s at my facility.”  
  
Natasha stepped back, and Hammer turned back round to face her.  
  
“Natasha?” Pepper asked.  
  
“On it,” said Natasha, stepping away from Hammer and running towards the exit.  
  
Pepper strode forward and poked Hammer in the chest with her finger.  
  
“You,” she said, poking him again, “are coming with me to the IT suite. You’re going to tell me everything you know.”  
  
She grabbed him by the shirt and frog-marched him towards the door. On the way, she called the police.  
  
The IT suite gave them access to monitors displaying the scene across the entire expo site. Security cameras occasionally caught glimpses of Iron Man and War Machine flitting across the sky, but more often, they caught images of Hammer’s drones, wreaking havoc on the expo site, chasing after attendees.  
  
Pepper pointed at one of the monitors. “What… oh my god!” she said.  
  
On screen, one of Hammer’s drones swooped down and pointed its weapon at a small boy. A small boy wearing an Iron Man mask.  
  
“Oh, no,” she said. “Tell me you didn’t. Tell me these robots don’t target anything that looks like Iron Man.”  
  
“It wasn’t me,” said Hammer, putting his palms up towards her. His eyes were unrepentant.  
  
Hammer’s IT expert looked up at him sceptically.  
  
“Tell me these drones are smart enough to tell the difference between a four-year-old in a mask, and a man in a flying suit?”  
  
Justin Hammer could not hold her gaze.  
  
Pepper heard another scream, and her gaze was directed back to the monitors as Tony swept in and destroyed the drone. This wouldn’t be the end of it. The shops on-site were full of Iron Man memorabilia. There would be dozens if not hundreds of people out there who either looked like Iron Man, or who had a picture of Iron Man on their shirt.  
  
And the dancers. My god, the dancers, were all dressed as Iron Man. Kind of.  
  
It was going to be carnage.  
  
As if on queue, her phone rang.  
  
“Miss Potts,” said a quivery voice. “Miss Rushman said I should call you?” In the background, Pepper could hear sounds of shooting. “It’s Lauren, one of the dancers?”  
  
Pepper had a vague recollection of a petite woman with enormous hair. Oh… Hair Apocalypse. “Lauren! Get out of there as quick as you can. Get changed. Cover up your outfit, do you hear?”  
  
“Yes, yes,” said Lauren, panting slightly. “We saw. It’s okay. Most of us were out of those things the second we were off the stage, anyway.”  
  
“Oh, thank heavens for that,” said Pepper.  
  
“It’s just, do you remember that thing that happened when someone got soda in the robot?”  
  
Pepper racked her brains to remember what the hell Lauren was talking about.  
  
“I can’t really talk about that right now, Lauren,” she said.  
  
“No, no, it’s not that, it’s only… you remember that Tony’s robot, the one that takes his suit off… well, it broke down when someone got soda in it?”  
  
“Yes,” said Pepper, suddenly realising what Lauren was talking about.  
  
“Well, do you think these robots will be the same? That they’d stop working if someone got soda in them?”  
  
“Maybe,” said Pepper, “but for god’s sake be careful.”  
  
“Don’t worry about us,” said Lauren. “Sasha’s leading some of them over to the concessions stand. And if that doesn’t work, he reckons there’s something he can try with cotton candy.”  
  
“Be careful!” Pepper shrieked, as Lauren ended the call.  
  
The seconds dragged by slowly as Pepper watched Justin Hammer’s technical expert try, and repeatedly fail, to gain control of Hammer’s drones. Hammer himself stood by helplessly, hands in pockets, doing nothing at all.  
  
On one screen, an amazing scene played out as three drones were led to a small booth, before being drenched with brown liquid, and then pelted with fuzzy, pink missiles. As one, the drones ground to a halt, and were then hit by what was unmistakably a hail of flaming Furbies. In the background, Gus Hartley the Technical Facilities Manager swept in with a portable generator, two large crocodile clips, and a determined expression.  
  
“Way to go, girls,” said Pepper.  
  
Suddenly, a screen to Pepper’s left flickered and changed, and they could see Natasha staring out at them, Happy looking over her shoulder.  
  
“We’re here,” said Natasha. “We at Hammer’s facility. Hold on.” Natasha frowned, and started typing rapidly. “Pepper, can you hear me?”  
  
“Yes,” said Pepper.  
  
“Vanko’s gone. I’m at his workstation. I’m trying to reboot Rhodey’s suit.”  
  
“We’re not having any luck this end.”  
  
“Hold on,” repeated Natasha. “This should do it.”  
  
Another monitor close to Pepper fizzled, and the display changed to give a view from high above the expo.  
  
“That’s Rhodes,” said Natasha. “Colonel, open comms with Stark, I’m going to piggyback the signal.”  
  
Over the comms they could hear Tony’s voice, crackling with static and interference.  
  
“Tony, can you hear me?” said Natasha.  
  
“That’s an affirmative.”  
  
“Tony, you’ve got your best friend back.”  
  
“Thank you very much agent Romanoff.”  
  
“Thanks,” said Rhodey.  
  
“The new chest piece looks promising,” said Natasha.  
  
“Yes, for the moment, I’m not dying. Thank you,” said Tony.  
  
“Wait,” said Pepper. “You were dying?”  
  
“Can Pepper hear this?” asked Tony. “Scratch that, of course she can hear this. I was going to tell you. I didn’t want to alarm you.”  
  
“You really were dying?” asked Pepper again. “Are you okay now?”  
  
“Just great, Pepper.” There was a noise from the comms, and they heard the sound of laser fire. “Can we talk about this later? Just for the moment, I need to focus on figuring out these drones.”  
  
“Tony, you’ve got incoming,” said Natasha. “They’re all heading straight for you. I’ll try to disable them from this end.”  
  
On screen, what looked like all of the remaining drones pursued two small, metallic streaks of light through the sky, straight towards the glass dome of the arboretum. The sound of breaking glass filtered down to them through Tony’s line. They watched Hammer’s drones surround Stark and Colonel Rhodes. Tony and Rhodey made short work of them, and within a minute, they were the only ones left standing. There was something wrong, though. A new blip had appeared on the screen, and this one looked substantially different from the others.  
  
“Heads up, Tony,” said Natasha. “You’ve got one more drone incoming. This one looks different.” On screen it flew differently, looked heavier, and had an altogether different signature from the others.  
  
By this time, Tony could see what was heading his way. “It’s Vanko.”  
  
There was nothing any of them could do to help. From their respective parts of the city, Natasha, Happy, Pepper and Hammer all watched as dots on a screen circled each other, accompanied by the sounds drifting over from Rhodey’s and Tony’s comms. Tony’s breathing started to come in shorter bursts, and they could hear mutters as he gave instructions to Rhodey. Suddenly, there was a sizzling explosion, then silence.  
  
“Tony?” said Pepper.  
  
Loud and clear over the line came the sound of Tony’s breathing, followed by a dark, rasping chuckle.  
  
“You lose,” said Vanko, and underneath his chuckle they could now also hear a beeping.  
  
“What’s happening?” said Natasha. “Vanko’s signal has just changed. Scratch that. The signal from all the drones has changed.” She watched as the displays around her flickered back into life, streaming data.  
  
“Wait,” said Pepper. “What about the damaged drones by the soda stand? Zoom in.” She shook the IT guy’s shoulder, and he obligingly switched to the view from the relevant camera.  
  
“There’s red lights flashing,” she said.  
  
“Wait!” said Natasha. “These readouts. Tony. Pepper. They’re all set to explode!”  
  
“Tony, get out of there!” shouted Pepper.  
  
Tony and Rhodey did not need telling twice. They took off through the shattered dome of the arboretum as all of Hammer’s drones exploded simultaneously, taking Vanko in his suit along with them. On screen, all of the lights indicating the drones flickered and went out.  
  
“Tony!” Pepper yelled. “Can you hear me?”  
  
“We’re fine. We’re on a roof,” he said.  
  
“They’re gone,” said Natasha. “All of the drones are destroyed.”  
  
Pepper felt a shiver run through her body as the adrenalin in her system held up its hands and started to leave. “Thank god,” she said, and sat down. From one of the screens, Natasha smiled down at her, and behind her, Pepper could see Happy looking similarly exhausted and relieved.  
  
“We’re on our way back,” said Natasha, and turned off her camera.  
  
Pepper sighed, and as if on queue, four policemen entered the room, and took Justin Hammer away in handcuffs.  
  
Hammer’s IT expert chanced a sympathetic smile in Pepper’s direction.  
  
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said, with an evil glint in her eye, “we’ll have questions for you too, later.”  
  
 **Chapter 9: Conclusion**  
  
It was another long night, and with some trepidation, Pepper asked Happy to take her to Tony Stark’s New York mansion, while Natasha stayed at the expo site and gave SHIELD a full report.  
  
She was staring into the fireplace when Tony arrived.  
  
“Can you believe that man?” he said, taking off his face visor, getting himself a scotch, and sitting on the couch still in his Iron Man suit.  
  
Pepper looked at him, quizzically.  
  
“Rhodey,” Tony elaborated. “He took off in my suit. He’s still got my suit!” He looked at Pepper, and became silent.  
  
“Tony,” said Pepper, “I…”  
  
“I can’t do this to you any more,” said Tony.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You’re right,” said Tony, quietly. “You deserve better. You’ve taken good care of me, but you’re right.”  
  
Pepper nodded minutely. “If we split up, how will this be better?”  
  
Tony said nothing, and shook his head.  
  
“It’s the stress, Tony,” said Pepper. “I literally cannot handle the stress. I never know if you’re gonna kill yourself, or wreck the whole company.”  
  
“Yeah,” said Tony. “I get it. I do.”  
  
“I just, I can’t take it any more.”  
  
“I know, Pep.” Tony nodded his head, obviously coming to a decision. “The company?”  
  
Pepper opened and closed her mouth, and the silence between them grew.  
  
“I don’t know,” she said.  
  
“Take a day?” said Tony.  
  
“Tony,” said Pepper, sternly.  
  
“As long as you need,” said Tony. “No pressure.”  
  
“Thank you,” said Pepper. “It’s okay, right? We’re okay?”  
  
Tony sighed. “Yeah, we’re okay. You know what,” he said, knocking back his drink. “I’m out of here. Stay as long as you like.” He tapped the glass down on the side-table, picked up his face visor, and stood up.  
  
“Where…?” Pepper started to ask, then gave up.  
  
Tony shrugged. “Gonna take the long route home.” Without another word, Tony walked out of the room, and seconds later, she heard the door click shut behind him.  
  
“Well, this sucks,” said Pepper.  
  
The next two weeks were extremely difficult. Pepper and Natasha oversaw repairs to the expo site, while secretly trying to decide whether they could shut the whole thing down. Tony stayed in contact, but he also stayed in Malibu, arranging repairs to the house. Between them, somehow, they managed to keep the company running. And amazingly, they also seemed to remain friends.  
  
Hammer was lying low, but had apparently managed to avoid jail. They also watched with incredulity as the sky was lit up in a small town in New Mexico, and cameras caught footage of a new superhero, with, just possibly, Phil and Clint in pursuit. The following day, New York buzzed with rumours that another superhero had been seen running through the streets. Suddenly, it seemed, superheroes were everywhere.  
  
Tony dropped by one Wednesday afternoon, while Pepper was trying to finish up a report. They smiled at each other, clumsy, sad smiles, but smiles that said they were determined to remain good friends no matter what.  
  
“I still don’t forgive you for breaking up with me,” said Tony, which suggested that he really was starting to find his feet again.  
  
“Hey,” said Pepper. “How’s….”  
  
“The house? Actually, it’s good as new. Better. You should pop by.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Sure. Thinking of having a party.”  
  
“A party?”  
  
“Sure. Kind of a ‘welcome to our world’ party.”  
  
“That would imply that your new alien friend was actually still on the planet,” said Pepper.  
  
Tony shrugged. “Maybe I have more than one alien friend, you ever think that? Actually, I have good some news.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“I, er. I got kicked out of the Avengers.”  
  
“Really?” said Pepper, practicing her poker face. “Congratulations.”  
  
Tony smiled, an honest, open smile. “That’s not what I’m celebrating. I’ve got this great new consultancy gig, actually.”  
  
“Good,” said Pepper. “For SHIELD?”  
  
“Yeah, top secret consultant. Fury has some new tech he wants me to design. Obviously as it’s top secret, I can’t tell you that it’s this enormous flying aircraft carrier.” He waved his hands around. “Like a boat, but flying. It’s gonna be amazing. It’s gonna be… invisible!”  
  
Pepper smiled back at him. “If it’s invisible, how can we tell it’s amazing?”  
  
“Party pooper!” Tony said. “Actually, it’s great. The technical problems…” he stretched his hands out, expansively. “Are sexy.”  
  
“I’m glad, Tony. You had me worried back there.” She looked at Tony a little more closely. There was a definite spark about him.  
  
“And there’s this guy,” he said, rattling on. “You should see his work, Pep. It’s amazing. I kid you not. This guy has done the most amazing work in chemistry you could ever imagine. It’s off the charts. He’s off the charts.”  
  
“You sound quite….”  
  
Tony smiled, then shrugged. “Hey, we’ve not met. But this Banner guy, Pepper. Just you wait.”  
  
“I look forward to it,” she said.  
  
“So, are like you guys busy? Can you spare an hour?”  
  
“Er, I guess so. If you give me a couple of minutes. What’s up?”  
  
“I, my dear, am getting an award for my brilliance. And I thought you might just like to see Senator Stern eat his words.”  
  
“Now that,” said Pepper, “I will always have time for. Lead the way.”

**Author's Note:**

> [1] I have been in situations where this was done. There’s a fine line between proprietary information and information that becomes public, because staff from competing companies happen to overhear things while socialising in the same bars. People don’t like to contemplate how tenuous this distinction is.
> 
> [2] Not the dialog from the movie. Instead, “screw you and the horse you rode in on”.


End file.
